


Freedom At Last

by Karechan



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It's For A Good Cause Though, Rishid Can Be Pretty Freaking Manipulative, technically illegal activities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 02:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16673410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karechan/pseuds/Karechan
Summary: Alone and looking for work, young Rishid aids a foreign archaeologist and starts helping around a dig site. But although he loves his new life, his siblings are still trapped in theirs, and he can't leave them.





	Freedom At Last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orro/gifts).



> Title: Freedom At Last  
> Author: Akanue  
> Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! (Manga Canon but ignores Dark Side of Dimensions)  
> Rating: T  
> Warning(s): Technically Illegal Activities. Mentions of Child Abuse.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or its characters. They belong to Kazuki Takahashi, Studio Gallop, TV Tokyo, and other licensors and distributors. This is a not-for-profit fan work.
> 
> Author’s Note: Giftfic for orro, written for the 2018 Yu-Gi-Oh! It's Time to G-G-G-Gift! [Mini-Exchange]. You gave me such good prompts, but I don't think I'd ever be capable of turning down Rishid genfic requests! I truly hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, I finished this on his birthday, so happy birthday, Rishid!

Rishid sighed as the sun set behind the western horizon, another day having passed without him finding work.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out.

Merchants around the small square were beginning to pack up their wares and go home. Rishid sighed again, a sound of sorrow mixed with agitation. He gave one last look down the street, hoping to see someone he might approach, but there was no one. Just the windswept main street of the lonely village. He had just turned to head back to the small, pathetic hole he’d found to curl up in when he heard voices behind him.

Curious, he turned around to see a man, clearly foreign, who had just been approached by one of the merchants who frequented this square. Rishid felt his features twist up in disgust – everyone else who came to sell here was just trying to make an honest living, but this man was well-known as a fraud – trying to pass off junk as rare, ancient treasures to tourists who didn’t know any better. He disrespected the past, swindled innocent people out of their money, and was incredibly pushy. He was also known to be fairly well-off and not just desperate for the money, so Rishid held a special disdain for him.

Most of the other merchants were already gone, and the few who remained didn’t want to pick a fight with him. He was notorious for getting back at anyone who challenged him and none of them wanted to invite that kind of trouble that could put their livelihoods at risk. The whole situation incensed Rishid, who could already tell that the foreigner was an archaeologist. An incredibly naive archaeologist.

He could have just walked away. He should have. But the sheer injustice of it all, coupled with Rishid feeling as though he had nothing to lose, caused the young teenager to step forward before he was fully aware of what he was doing.

Swallowing down his nervousness, Rishid approached and asked, “Excuse me, can I see that?” He gestured to the small, gold-plated staff that was currently being shown to the archaeologist.

Ameen, the unscrupulous merchant, gave him a look that could have bored right through his skull. “And let your grubby little hands touch such a precious artifact? I don’t think so. Get out of here, you brat.”

“It’s a fake!” Rishid shouted in irritation as Ameen physically shoved him away.

The archaeologist, however, glanced at Rishid, his expression a mix of alarm, curiosity, and uncertainty. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure of it!” Rishid insisted.

“Pay him no heed, good sir,” Ameen said, sounding placating while shooting an angry glance at Rishid.

“Why do you say that, boy?”

“This isn’t real gold, see?” Rishid said. Although he flinched a little at doing it, he took his thumbnail and scratched. Even though he’d been sure, he felt a twinge of relief when the “gold” flaked off of plain wood. “Not even pyrite. Just paint.”

“Damn you, brat!” Ameen cried, backhanding Rishid across the face. “How dare you destroy my merchandise!”

Rishid went down in an explosion of dust, dumbfounded in shock. He regained his senses just in time to see Ameen’s foot striking towards him in a kick. Conditioned to this, he curled himself into a ball and covered his head to protect against the blow.

“Stop this!” cried the foreign archaeologist, timidly, but with conviction, stepping his leg in front of Rishid’s body and forcing to blow to strike his calf instead. “Not only is he a child, but he was right. You are a fraud. See to it that you no longer approach any member of my team, understand?”

Ameen fell silent and backed away, his brows knitted in anger although there wasn’t much else he could do.

An offered hand hovered in front of Rishid’s face. “Come with me, boy. I’ll do what I can to ensure he never bothers you again.” The foreign archaeologist’s eyes held a kind look.

Not really having an alternative, Rishid followed the foreign man away from the market and towards the outskirts of the town, where he could plainly see a group of tents set up in the distance. It was clearly a group of archaeologists here on a dig, like so many others over the millennia.

What puzzled him more was the foreign archaeologist he had helped and who had helped him in return. What he had done back there was unquestionably brave, and yet the man’s hands had been shaking for nearly the entire walk back. He occasionally glanced over his shoulder as if afraid Ameen would follow him and the tension he carried in his shoulders was obvious even to an unobservant observer.

They spent the walk to the camp in complete silence, Rishid wanting to break that silence more and more with each step they took. It was starting to become downright uncomfortable.

When they arrived at their destination, Rishid hesitated briefly. The man seemed kind, and had saved him from a beating, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t luring Rishid into something far worse. He had half a mind to stop and ask what the man wanted, but before he could, his companion addressed him.

“I won’t harm you in any way,” he said in reassurance. “I just want to ask you some questions. Allow me to show you some hospitality?”

Rishid looked up at him, still a little worried, and nodded.

“Good,” the man beamed. “Follow me.”

Rishid was led through the camp, tens of curious eyes watching him as he went.

“Dr. Bakura?” several of the man’s colleagues asked, confused looks on their faces.

“It’s all right, he’s with me,” the man, a Dr. Bakura, assured anyone who asked.

When they finally arrived at a large tent in the central area, Dr. Bakura bid him inside and offered him a seat. Under shelter and out of the direct glare of the desert sun, it felt so good. Dr. Bakura handed him a canteen full of water before sitting down himself.

“What’s your name, son?”

“Rishid,” Rishid replied in between sips.

“Ah, a good name. Good name,” Dr. Bakura said, almost absentmindedly. “So, Rishid, are you looking for work?”

“Why, yes,” Rishid responded, a little surprised.

“You clearly are from around here and know a lot about ancient artifacts. Can you read these?” he asked, handing Rishid a piece of paper covered in hieroglyphs.

For Rishid, someone who had grown up speaking and writing the ancient Egyptian language, it was as easy as reading regular written Arabic, which tomb keepers were also taught. With barely a stutter, he relayed the meaning of the words before him.

When he was finished, he looked up to see Dr. Bakura staring at him, stunned. “How do you know all this?”

Rishid felt an icy sliver of panic in response. Even though he’d run away, even though living there had been hell on Earth, he still found the idea of giving away the secrets of the tomb keepers distasteful. Quickly, he thought of a lie. Well, a half-truth.

“It was my father, sir. He studied ancient Egypt passionately, especially this area, and passed on much of his knowledge to me.” He hoped it sounded convincing enough.

“I see. Where is your father now, if you don’t mind my asking? Or your mother? Who is looking after you?”

The question almost brought Rishid to tears, but he maintained his composure. “I’m on my own now, sir. My mother... she died, and my father... I don’t know where he is.”

“You poor boy. I’m so sorry. Well, you are welcome here for the time being. I’ll be sure to pay you fairly if you wish to do any work for us. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

Rishid’s eyes widened. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Wow, um, I don’t really know what to say.”

“It’s okay. Take all the time you want to think it over,” said Dr. Bakura.

Rishid didn’t need a lot of time to decide. It was just about the best offer he could hope for and he was confident that he could do an excellent job working for these archaeologists on their dig. Their operation seemed professional, neat. He was fairly certain they were there with full permission and backing of the Egyptian government.

Maybe they could help him as well.

“I accept your offer.”

 

The next ten minutes or so were a blur of meeting new people and hearing their names, which promptly would slip from his mind after each introduction. Rishid fancied himself pretty good at remembering names and faces, but so many had just gone by, most foreign, that he knew it would take several times repeating before he remembered them all.

That was when he saw the boy.

The white-haired child watched the newcomer silently from inside the tent Rishid assumed he shared with his father, for the child looked very much like Dr. Bakura.

“Ah, and then there’s my son, Ryou. He wanted to come along with me but he’s terribly shy. I hope the two of you can become friends,” Dr. Bakura said, offering his child a kind but awkward smile.

Rishid glanced at little Ryou, and the boy let out a squeak before scurrying back into the tent, behind the safety of the flaps.

“He’s always like this,” Dr. Bakura said, almost in dismay. “I’m sure he’ll warm up to you the longer you’re around.”

Rishid wasn’t sure about that, but for the moment he didn’t pay it any heed.

He had somewhere to be. Something to do. A purpose.

Now if only he could let go of the past.

 

The next week passed without comment. Rishid fell into his new work with a passion he never thought he could have for something that wasn’t related to caring for his younger brother and sister.

At the beginning, he was only called upon for advice regarding good local places to dig as well as reading any hieroglyphs or identifying any artifacts they found. Then on the second day Dr. Bakura invited him along and showed the boy how to properly dig without damaging any artifacts or disturbing these ancient sites.

Always the fast learner, Rishid picked up on everything he was told. He began speaking with other members of the dig and learning what they had to teach him as well. He learned that they were a joint operation between and the University of Tokyo and the University of Chicago in the United States in association with the Egyptian Supreme Council of Antiquities. Dr. Bakura, apparently the curator of a museum in Domino City, Japan, had been invited along by a colleague in the University of Tokyo contingent.

Rishid was learning so much about his people and the history of his land. He knew all the gods and goddesses, of course, but now he could put that into context of Egypt’s history and her people. A land the world over was fascinated by and wanted to see studied and preserved for all time. He was appreciated, free. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d been happier.

But then, at night, his mind would wander and tears would leak from his eyes to soak the pillow.

He thought no one noticed.

 

“Rishid, are you feeling alright?” Dr. Bakura asked him one morning at breakfast.

Puzzled, Rishid looked up. “Yes, of course. Why?”

“No reason. Just wanted to make sure you were adjusting well.”

The man was a terrible liar and Rishid could tell he was growing suspicious. He couldn’t blame Dr. Bakura for his suspicions – Rishid _hadn’t_ told him the whole truth, after all. But the thought of Dr. Bakura digging too deeply into who he was frightened him for more reasons than one. The paralyzing feeling of fear settled in and he wasn’t sure what to do. Leave? Tell the truth? Continue to say nothing and hope no one started questioning?

He honestly didn’t know, and that scared him more than anything.

 

One night, Dr. Bakura had gone to town with the senior staff, leaving just Rishid, Ryou, and a handful of the interns and assistants behind. It was late and all Rishid could think of was sliding into his own cot and falling into blissful sleep in the small spare tent he’d been given.

A soft sound coming from Dr. Bakura’s tent made him stop and furrow his brow, however. It sounded like crying.

Was something wrong with Ryou? Without his father here, Rishid wasn’t sure what to do. Should he go find someone? Or check on Ryou himself?

Giving in, he stepped up to the tent and called gently, “Ryou? Are you okay? Is everything okay? It’s Rishid.”

Silence answered him, and his worry grew. Ryou could just be upset over something very normal and embarrassed to be seen by anyone. Or he could really be hurt. Rishid felt he would rather check and have it be nothing than ignore it and find out later it had been an emergency.

“Ryou? I’m coming in. You don’t need to be frightened,” he said as he unzipped the tent flap and stepped inside.

Pitch blackness greeted his eyes and he was unable to make out anything. Fortunately, Dr. Bakura had spoken to him often enough in here that he knew the general way his benefactor had laid out his space. Fumbling for a moment, Rishid located the small battery-powered lantern on the table and managed to turn it on. The tent was bathed in a dull yellow glow, and Rishid could now make out the form of little Ryou sitting upright on his bed and sobbing, looking at Rishid with unsure, frightened eyes.

Every protective instinct Rishid possessed kicked into overdrive. This boy looked so like Malik and for the first time in a long time, Rishid felt entirely comfortable dealing with a situation. This was something he recognized and knew how to handle.

“Ryou? It’s okay, I promise. I just want to make sure you’re okay. What’s wrong?” He edged closer, gently and slowly.

“I—I thought too much about my mommy and sister and now I’m really sad.”

“I’m sure they’re doing well,” Rishid said, not sure how to answer.

The boy looked up at him with wide eyes. “In heaven?”

_Oh._ Dr. Bakura’s wife, then, was dead. As was a daughter Rishid had never heard of before. Dr. Bakura must not have wanted to talk about them much. The pain must have been too great.

“Of course,” he said, recovering quickly, slipping into the role of the sturdy rock far too easily for someone so young. “You know, my mother, too, is in heaven. I’m sure they’re both up there, watching over us.”

The boy regarded him for a moment before speaking. “I think you’re right. I write letters to them sometimes, you know. So they can hear how I’m doing.”

“I’m sure they look forward to those very much,” Rishid said.

His heart truly broke for the little boy. So shy, having suffered great loss, with a father who cared but didn’t know how to show it well.

“I have a little sister too, you know. And a brother,” Rishid continued. “They’re very precious to me, but...” he hesitated.

Ryou looked at him in confusion. “But what?”

“I had to leave them behind,” he explained, finding himself unable to lie to this child even though warning bells were going off in his head about being too truthful.

“Then you should go get them,” Ryou said. “I’m sure they miss you a lot too.”

Something inside Rishid shattered at those words. The dam broke and tears came to his eyes, but he managed to keep them from falling because he didn’t want to scare or upset Ryou. With titanic effort, he pulled himself together and said, “You know, I think you’re right.”

He’d come clean to Ryou, he’d have to come clean to Dr. Bakura as well. Maybe, gods willing, things would turn out okay.

 

It was well past midnight when Dr. Bakura returned, but Rishid insisted on talking to him right away. After seeing the worry and desperation on the boy’s face, Dr. Bakura relented. “Alright. Let’s move away from where people are sleeping.”

Clenching his hands together in nervousness, Rishid followed his benefactor to the edge of camp where a couple of outdoor chairs had been set up with a beautiful view of the desert valley, though in the black of night nothing was visible. Nevertheless, it was quiet and a good place to get this out of the way. No matter what came of it.

“So, what do you need to tell me?”

Rishid took a deep breath and began. “I was raised by a family of tomb keepers who have lived in a secret compound in the desert for thousands of years.”

Dr. Bakura looked stunned for a moment before he asked, “But you aren’t one of them?”

“No. I was taken in as a baby when the clan’s matriarch found me abandoned in the desert, left to die. I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove myself to them. To be a tomb keeper as well. But my father, the clan patriarch, wouldn’t have it.”

Rishid closed his eyes, the tears threatening to come again. He thought he’d gotten all of the crying out of the way in the time between his talk with Ryou and Dr. Bakura’s arrival back at the camp. “He’s a horrible man. I know that now, but in spite of that I wanted nothing more than to please him.”

Dr. Bakura placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “It’s not uncommon for kids in your situation to feel that way, but you really owe him nothing.”

Rishid nodded numbly. “I know. What I’m worried most about now are my siblings. They aren’t related to me by blood but they’re the only family I have and I love them more than anything. Ishizu, the girl, is the older, and Malik, the boy and his father’s heir, is the younger. Their – our – mother, the woman who saved my life and took me in as her own... she died giving birth to Malik.”

“How old are your siblings now?”

“Ishizu is eight and Malik is four.”

“What caused you to leave?”

“I was trying to run away. With Ishizu and Malik in tow. But my father found out, took them back, and... kicked me out.”

“I see,” Dr. Bakura said sadly. “And... what do you want to do now?”

“I... want to go back and get my siblings. They... don’t deserve to live trapped down there, never able to be part of the outside world. Malik, because he’s the heir, isn’t even allowed to go outside at all. But that isn’t all. My father... He’s abusive.”

Dr. Bakura paused, as if not sure how to respond to that.

Rishid expected this. No one should even consider what amounted to kidnapping children without irrefutable proof. He hated to even go this route because it really was morally wrong, not to mention what he was truly asking of Dr. Bakura. But desperation took hold and he really felt he had no other choice. He felt certain authorities in Egypt wouldn’t take Malik and Ishizu away from their parent, even if the clan of tomb keepers had been part of Egyptian society, which they most certainly were not. No one else even knew they existed, and Rishid still felt like it was wrong to expose the whole clan to the world against their will. No, for now, he only wanted to escape with his siblings. And his only hope of freeing them would be through more illicit means. He took a deep breath, reached down, and pulled his shirt over his head.

Dr. Bakura gasped as the ghastly scars came into view. “Oh, Rishid...” he whispered sadly, reaching out as if to touch them but then halting when he thought better of it.

“Malik’s back is going to look similar, but worse, in a few years,” Rishid said quietly. “The tomb keeper initiation requires the next head of the clan to undergo an initiation ceremony where a tattoo is literally carved into their back with a knife.”

“And you? Why did he do... that... to you?” Dr. Bakura looked guilty the moment he said it. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“It’s... it’s alright,” replied Rishid. “For my whole life, I’ve wanted nothing more than to be a full tomb keeper and a member of that family. I did everything I could to please him. Yet he still... beats me, and I...” The first sob left him, and with it, his control.

Rishid cried for a long, long time. At some point, Dr. Bakura awkwardly embraced him, but it was warm and one of the only displays of physical affection Rishid had experienced from an adult in years. He cried harder.

When he’d finally pulled himself together enough to speak clearly again, he said, “So that’s why I need to get them out of that horrible place. Please, can you help me?”

Dr. Bakura sat back in his chair and said, “Well. None of that was... what I was expecting you to tell me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the whole truth before.”

“That’s quite alright. I can only imagine how hard this must have been for you. But, well, I’m not sure what to do. I’m just an archaeologist. I can call the police, but if what you say is true and these tomb keepers have lived apart from regular society for thousands of years, I’m not sure what consequences that could have. I want to help, but even if I can get your brother and sister out of there, I’m not sure what would happen next.”

“I can offer you something in exchange,” Rishid said, wondering if it was the right thing to do as he said it, but ultimately seeing no other choice. For Malik and Ishizu’s sake, he’d give up any ancient artifact, no matter how rare or powerful. “You’ve been looking for New Kingdom artifacts, right? I know where two are. Perhaps you could care for them properly in your museum?”

Dr. Bakura did look interested. So interested, in fact, that Rishid thought he might cave. But then he said, “I still don’t know.”

Rishid hung his head. “I understand. I’m sorry to put you in a position like this.” He felt something inside him break as he said it.

“Hey, don’t give up, okay? There’s got to be something we can do.”

Rishid nodded. This was the outcome he’d expected, so why did it feel like there was a crushing weight atop his chest?

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Dr. Bakura suggested. “We can talk more about this in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” Rishid said, although honestly, he wasn’t so sure he’d still be there in the morning. If Dr. Bakura wasn’t going to help him, he’d have to move on and figure something else out.

 

Dr. Bakura tried to enter his tent quietly, so as to not wake his sleeping son, but discovered the lantern was on and the child still awake.

“Ryou, what are you doing up so late?”

“Were you talking to Rishid, Daddy?”

“Oh, uh, yes. Why do you ask?”

“Are you going to help him?”

“Well, sweetie, I want to, but I’m not sure how, or even if I can.”

“Daddy, you’ve got to help him. Nobody should be apart from their family. Nobody.”

Dr. Bakura looked at his son, his uncertain expression starting to morph into one of certainty.

“You know, I guess you’re right, Ryou,” he said softly.

 

The next night, under the darkness of the new moon, Rishid guided Dr. Bakura to the underground compound where the tomb keepers lived. Where he’d spent his entire life up until that point. And now, he probably would never come back again.

“I won’t ask you to go in and do any of this for me,” Rishid said. “All I ask is that you transport us away from here. After that, well, we’ll make do somehow.”

“That’s very noble of you, Rishid, but you’re thirteen. You’re going to need a lot of help to support yourself. I’m not sure what we’re going to do, to be honest, but we’ll figure something out.”

“I’ll still go in and get them out on my own.”

“All right, fair enough.”

Rishid indicated for Dr. Bakura to wait behind some nearby rocks before he approached the compound door, a sturdy wooden door in the sand that was easily hidden. Swallowing, he slowly started pulling open the door, stopping just before the alarm he knew was there could be triggered.

Never having to disarm the trap before, Rishid carefully searched for the latch that would disable the alarm. Finally finding it, he snapped it back down and got the door open all the way so he could slide in.

The halls of the compound he had called home all his life now seemed dark, desolate, and intimidating. Even though he knew where he was going, he was jumpier than he’d ever been before, even when his father had hunted him down through the corridors in rage.

Ishizu’s room was closer, so there he went first.

“Ishizu? Ishizu, wake up, please!” he whispered.

The little girl turned and twisted in her sleep, her eyes fluttering open. “R—Rishid? Rishid!” she squeaked, leaping out of bed and giving him a big hug which he returned wholeheartedly.

A wary expression then came over her face. “I—I’m not dreaming, am I? You’re really here?”

“Yes, I’m really here,” Rishid said. “I’ve come back to take you with me, if you want to go.”

“Malik too?”

“Of course. Malik too.”

She straightened, nodded, and said in a way that made her seem much older than her eight years of age, “I understand.”

She then proceeded to get out of bed, get dressed, and stow a few of her most precious possessions into a small bag she’d kept that had belonged to her mother. Rishid watched on, his heart thumping and sorrow filling his being. It shouldn’t have had to come to this. For a moment, he even wondered whether he was doing the right thing, but then he remembered all those nights Ishizu had cried because she knew her father thought of her as worthless, or Malik had curled up in a corner after a beating.

They didn’t deserve this life, and it was up to him to give them a better one. No matter what it took.

So he took his little sister out of her room for the last time to go get their brother.

When they arrived at his room, Rishid entered, calling Malik’s name gently.

Malik awoke almost immediately, his violet eyes brightening at the sight of his brother. “Rishid! You’re back!” he cried.

Rishid flinched at the loud noise, hoping it hadn’t woken anyone, but couldn’t find it in himself to scold the boy. His joy at seeing his brother again overwhelmed all else.

“Oh, Master Malik,” Rishid whispered, holding the child close and never wanting to let him go again. “I’ve come back, and I’ll bring you with me this time. I promise. That is, so long as you still want to.”

Malik looked at the door, a little longingly. For a heartbeat Rishid feared Malik would choose to stay. But he finally said, “Yeah. I want to be with you.”

Rishid smiled. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“Hurry. We don’t have much time before the servants will start waking up,” Ishizu whispered from where she stood near the door.

“Come on, Malik,” Rishid said, urging the child out of bed and helping him into a clean set of clothes that wouldn’t look too out of place in the outside world.

As soon as Malik was ready, Rishid took both siblings towards the entrance to the compound. So far so good – no one had discovered them.

It was only when he passed the room where the clan’s sacred relics were held that he remembered his promise to Dr. Bakura. “Oh, right, the items.”

“What about them?” asked Ishizu, confused.

“I—I promised the archaeologist who is helping me the Millennium Items in exchange for his help,” Rishid said softly and in shame.

“Rishid! Not only do those belong to the clan, but they also have power beyond imagining,” Ishizu gasped. “They shouldn’t be just given to an outsider.”

“I’m sure he’ll still help us even if I don’t bring the items,” Rishid said. “I can just say they were hidden away and I couldn’t find them. But after spending so much time at the dig, I truly believe those items would be better cared for in a museum by professionals. There are so many methods of preservation our family simply doesn’t have access to.”

“I—I don’t know,” Ishizu said hesitantly.

“The items should be ours anyway,” Malik said, his voice ringing with confidence.

“But they aren’t ours yet. Taking them would be stealing and it’s wrong,” Ishizu insisted.

But Malik had already walked over to where the two Millennium Items in possession of the tomb keepers sat. Seemingly without thinking, he picked up the Millennium Rod. “I’ve always wanted to touch it,” he said happily.

Ishizu hesitantly reached out and touched the necklace, as if unsure what to do.

“They should be ours anyway,” Malik insisted, taking the Rod and leaving no room for debate. “Let’s go.”

Still unsure, Ishizu took the necklace and hurried to catch up with her brothers.

With that, they were out.

 

The next hurdle was at the airports – both going out of Egypt and into Japan. Dr. Bakura had purchased them all plane tickets, but still expressed worry about crossing international borders with children that weren’t his own. Rishid had lied and told him they had acceptable documentation. What he knew he was going to have to do was use the powers of the Millennium Rod to get them through.

While the powers of the Millennium Items were still often a mystery, what both the Rod and the Necklace could do had been passed down through tomb keeper family lore for generations. He knew the Millennium Rod could manipulate minds and, while he felt that was morally wrong to do, again didn’t think he had another option if he wanted to get himself and his siblings to safety.

Rishid fingered the Rod in his bag nervously as they stood in line at security. When it came time to present their passports, Dr. Bakura and Ryou went on through. Rishid, on the other hand, focused hard on the Rod and on the agent checking passports.

A blank look came over the man’s eyes and he waved the three Ishtar siblings through without a second thought.

Dr. Bakura seemed puzzled by the entire passport situation but was wise enough not to say anything. Rishid was sure he didn’t want to get caught smuggling ancient artifacts or abducted minors out of the country. The pang of guilt for essentially manipulating this naive, nice man grew stronger, but there was no turning back now.

Malik in particular loved the flight. He insisted on a window seat so he could see everything passing by below, even though he fell asleep about an hour into the flight. Rishid kindly asked the flight attendant for a blanket which he then draped over Malik’s small, sleeping form.

Ishizu had asked Dr. Bakura for a book at the Cairo airport and read it quietly throughout the flight. Rishid, astounded by the personal in-flight screen, examined everything on it the whole way there, from music to movies to magazines. Even though he knew more about the outside world than either Malik or Ishizu, he realized he still had a lot to learn.

The situation repeated itself after the almost fifteen hour plane ride when they stepped up to Japanese customs. Rishid used the Rod to get them through without questions, and they entered Japan.

 

Domino City was an amazing place, truly nothing like Rishid, and certainly not Malik and Ishizu, had ever seen before in their lives. They rode a taxi through the city streets, Rishid and his siblings making a valiant effort to stare at everything at once.

When they arrived at Dr. Bakura’s home, blankets, pillows, and futons were pulled out and everyone got right to sleep. The stress and lack of rest had evidently gotten to everyone and they were all in bed exceedingly early.

The next morning, after a good night’s sleep, the kids started to get settled into their new environment while Rishid and Dr. Bakura sat at the table, enjoying a cup of tea. The breakfast dishes, which had been covered in pancakes and syrup just fifteen minutes before, sat in the sink, waiting to be washed.

“If you don’t mind letting me stay, you’ve always told me that you’re usually busy and feel bad that you can’t be home with Ryou more often. Well, because of the way I was raised, I’m used to taking care of kids, cleaning, and doing a little cooking. I’m also happy to help you out at the museum. Does that sound like a fair exchange?”

“I’m sure Ryou would appreciate that,” Dr. Bakura said as he watched Malik and Ryou playing together happily on the cream-colored carpet. “But I don’t expect you to do anything for me in exchange. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. But if you help out around the house I won’t say no,” he said with a laugh.

“All right,” Rishid said. “Thank you, Dr. Bakura. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Rishid,” said Dr. Bakura seriously, causing Rishid to look up from the tea he was drinking. “Thank _you_. I know what we did wasn’t on the level by any means, but I can see how much happier you are now, and I haven’t seen Ryou this happy since before...” He choked up a little. “Since before he lost his mother and his sister in that accident. So, I can’t thank you enough.”

“Y—You’re welcome,” Rishid said, a little stunned that Dr. Bakura was thanking him. In Rishid’s mind, it should be the other way around.

With a smile, Dr. Bakura stood and began squirming his way into his suit coat. “Well, kids, I need to get to work and make sure everything has gone smoothly in my absence. You can come to the museum later, if you’d like. Should I take those artifacts to get them cleaned up and cataloged?”

From the bag where he’d carefully stored them, Rishid handed over the Millennium Necklace without a problem, but the Rod remained in his hand even after he’d intended to give it to Dr. Bakura.

What if they needed it again? It would be so easy to just use the Rod’s power to forge their new lives.

Closing his eyes so tightly they hurt, Rishid placed the Rod in his benefactor’s hands. Whatever was to come, they couldn’t rely on magic to make it happen. It would be hard, but he was confident they could do it, together.

“Well,” said Dr. Bakura, “I can’t say I expected to come back from that dig an international criminal with three new kids, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

The corners of Rishid’s mouth curled up into a smile in spite of himself.

 


End file.
